


HB

by ddagent



Category: The Worst Witch (TV 2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Childhood Friends, Enemies to Friends, F/F, Implied Relationships, Reunion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-05
Updated: 2019-09-05
Packaged: 2020-10-10 13:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20528762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ddagent/pseuds/ddagent
Summary: It's Parents Evening, and Hecate has one last child and parent to see: Pippa Pentangle, and her daughter Morgan.





	HB

**Author's Note:**

> So, this story was written *way* back in March 2018, and I've only just got around to editing it. With that in mind, this story completely ignores the mess that is Indigo Moon and series 3. I hope you enjoy!

This had been a parents evening like no other. Hecate would truly consider a glass of Witches Brew before she retired for the evening; so tired and wrung out was she by the night’s events. First, Mister Nightshade had tried to write a _very_ large check to cover his daughter’s failings and destructive patterns. Then, Mistress Hubble had shot down any criticism of Mildred’s behaviour and had actually challenged Hecate herself on her reading of the code! The Spellbodys provided the only normal discussion of the night. But there was still one part of the quartet Hecate had yet to meet.

Morgan Pentangle and her mother, Pippa.

There was a flash of pink in the waiting room outside; Pippa’s familiar laugh echoing down the stone corridor. Hecate stared at the last name on her list and wondered if she could avoid the meeting; claim distress or emergency. But Pippa would _know. _She would know Hecate was avoiding her, like she had avoided her on Selection Day (thankfully, two girls crashing into the pond had provided excellent cover). A second disappearing act would lose any face Hecate still possessed.

So she straightened her dress, tucked an errant strand back into her bun, and called, “_Come._”

Morgan entered the potions lab first; eleven years old and the spitting image of her mother. The charcoal grey uniform of Cackle’s sat awkwardly on her shoulders; her dark blonde plait escaping its trappings. She sat in front of Hecate’s desk; head hanging low like the rest of her co-conspirators. Hecate had thought she'd seen a ghost on Selection Day. A phantom Pippa; wearing pink dungarees and a bright smile. Morgan had aced the written test; bested both Hallow and Spellbody to become Head of Year. Of course, as bright as she was, she still had not made better friends.

A family trait, it seemed.

“Well met, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate turned sharply towards the door. Her chair scraped across the stone floor as she rose to her feet; hand awkwardly lingering against her forehead as she performed the familiar greeting. “Well met, Miss Pentangle. Please, take a seat.”

Pippa took the free chair beside her daughter; reaching over to give Morgan’s hand a single squeeze. Notes on little Miss Pentangle lay in front of her, but Hecate did not reach for them. Instead, she just stared. Pippa had aged well in the intervening decades; a few lines here and there, but her hair was still the colour of the sun; her smile just as bright. Suddenly Hecate was fifteen again; swept up in Pippa’s shadow. She remembered the warmth. She equally remembered the cold. 

But tonight was not about them. Tonight was about Morgan. Her academic excellence. Her poor, _poor _taste in friends. Clearing her throat, Hecate addressed the Pentangles in front of her. “Shall we begin?”

“By all means, Miss Hardbroom.”

Hecate was not used to hearing the familiar voice in her classroom; the way Pippa still said her name. She took comfort in the knowledge that it wasn’t just her unsettled by this whole affair. Pippa’s eyes kept drifting across to Hecate; flicking back to her daughter whenever she was caught. Not that Pippa should be surprised or flustered over the appearance of her former best friend turned rival. It was _she_ who had sent Morgan to Cackle’s rather than her own school. _She_ who had seen the faculty list and set in motion this inevitable meeting between Selection Day and the Leavers Ceremony.

But Pippa had never thought much to consequences.

Brushing aside old memories, Hecate returned to the here and now. “As you well know, Morgan achieved sufficient marks in our entrance exams to become Head of Year; a role in which she has performed _adequately_.” Pippa and Morgan shared a smile. “Of course, whether she will remain in her position for the following year will depend on her exam performance.”

A low blow, perhaps, but one Hecate was happy to have landed. Pippa’s jaw locked; tongue swiping across her teeth as she tried to keep her smile in place. Morgan remained unaware of the tension in the room. Her mother had clearly not told her the story of how she had been ousted as Head of Year at Pentangle’s – a school run by Morgan’s grandmother, no less – by Hecate’s considerable performance. She had held that badge of honour until Pippa had stolen it from her the subsequent year.

“Well, I’m sure Morgan will do _just _fine in her end of year exams. And if she doesn’t, that’s fine too. Being Head of Year is an important responsibility; one other girls should enjoy. It’s important to share.” _Touché, Pippa. _“How is her performance in your class?”

_Better than yours. _“Morgan has been able to master the potions we have so far introduced in our first-year potions classes, and has even taken to helping some of the less abled students.” Pippa beamed with pride. “I’ve never known a witch of Morgan’s age to have such an able grasp of the _traditional _witching methods.” 

“Is that so?”

Hecate pulled her lips into a grin. Morgan leant back; frightened by her potions mistress actually _smiling. _Pippa no longer was. “It is. _Unfortunately, _this is where my praise ends. Morgan’s skills in the classroom do not make up for her _extra_-curricular activities.”

She turned to a separate file. Morgan winced, doing her best to sink into the chair underneath her. Pippa, however, tried to put a positive spin on her daughter’s troublesome behaviour. “I understand there have been one or two _mishaps._”

“A mishap, Miss Pentangle, is turning your hair bubble-gum pink after a failed after hours potion.” Pippa glared. Hecate had been sworn to secrecy after they had spent an entire weekend trying to get the colour out. “A mishap is _not _letting half the amphibians in this classroom go whilst shouting ‘hop froggies hop’. Nor is breaking into the kitchens and creating a half-sentient form of icing. _Nor, _Miss Pentangle, is destroying _my _classroom during her lunch hour!”

All the colour had drained from Pippa’s face. She turned to her daughter. “Morgan, would you like to explain?”

_She looks so much like her mother when she’s nervous. _“The frogs were because _Ethel Hallow _had turned Millie into one! And the potions lab was an accident; we cleared it up. And the wisdom spell—"

Hecate's gaze turned sharp. “_What _wisdom spell?”

Morgan’s eyes went wide. “No wisdom spell.”

“_Good._” Hecate would have to keep a closer eye on those four. Some of their exploits had obviously occurred under her radar. “It is my belief, Miss Pentangle, that Morgan has fallen in with the wrong coven. Mildred Hubble, Enid Nightshade, and Maud Spellbody all have their…_positive _attributes, but together they spell _disaster._”

Pippa nodded. “You think that Morgan should find better friends.”

“I do. Both Ethel Hallow and Felicity Foxglove have made overtures. Both are competent, popular, _safe. _If you wish Morgan to excel during her time at Cackle’s, I believe this is her best option.”

Pippa seemed to take Hecate’s words on board. Then, she turned to her daughter. “Morgan, dearest, would you wait outside whilst I have a quick chat with Miss Hardbroom?”

Morgan nodded. She walked to the door, as if to the gallows. Hecate knew it would be difficult; Morgan had made firm friends in Mildred, Maud, and Enid. But it would be best for her in the long run. Better to do it now, before she became too attached.

Of course, with Morgan gone, all facades and pretences disappeared with her. Pippa stared, _hard, _before rising to her feet. Arms crossed, jaw locked, she kept opening her mouth to speak but closing it before any sound came out. Two laps of her classroom were taken before Pippa shook her head in Hecate’s direction; finally ready to talk.

“I can’t _believe _you suggested that. They’re her _friends, _Hecate.”

“Who are holding her back and getting her into trouble. A Pentangle should not be in detention as much as Morgan has been!”

“I was!” Pippa huffed. “You may like to forget this, Hecate, but we were not so different from those four girls. Not as destructive, granted, but we still got into our fair share of trouble. Detention for out of bounds; detention for improper magic use—”

Hecate snorted. “_Improper. _It was an advanced spell that I performed quite well, I might add.”

“You’re missing the point. Do you _really _think that new friends are the best thing for Morgan? Or are you just suggesting this to hurt me through her?”

“I would _never _jeopardise the welfare of one of my pupils for _personal _reasons. The fact that you would even suggest such a thing tells me you haven’t changed.” Hecate got to her feet, circling her desk to confront Pippa. “I can see why you would protest in front of Morgan, but not in front of me. I know you of old, Pippa Pentangle. I remember the circle of friends you had. The Ethel Hallows and Felicity Foxgloves of our day. Why deny your daughter what you yourself had?”

“You really see it that way, don’t you?”

Hecate floundered; Pippa’s soft, questioning remark drawing the wind from her sails. She swallowed, then said, “I do.”

Pippa turned away from Hecate, resting her hands atop the carved wooden owls adorning the visitor chairs. Pink nails traced the markings made deep into the wood. “Do you know _why_ I sent Morgan to Cackle’s?”

“To spite me.” _To use your daughter as salt in a wound made over thirty years ago. _Hecate had been so sure of that. Yet Pippa shook her head softly; eyes squeezed tight as if warding off pain. “Then why, Pippa? Why send Morgan here?”

“Because I wanted to give her what I never had.” Pippa opened her eyes. “I love my school. I love being headmistress. But I _remember _what it was like to be the headmistress’s daughter. How _hard_ it was.”

“You had plenty of friends.”

Pippa scoffed. “Friends? _Followers_. Hangers on. Silly little witches who only wanted to be by my side because of the power it gave them; the opportunities. I only ever had one true friend at school, Hecate. _You._”

Hecate stumbled back, as if a blow had been struck. “Me?”

“Yes. You! I can’t tell you how grateful I am that Morgan has three. Three friends who love her and include her and don’t care who her mother is.” Pippa finally smiled. “I also sent her here because I knew you would take care of her. I knew that, no matter what went on between us, you’d look after her if anything happened.”

“Of course. Morgan is…_outside _us. She’s an incredibly gifted young witch. Always asking for extra homework.”

Pippa laughed, her eyes lingering on the door her daughter stood behind. “You know, she reminds me of you sometimes. A smile, a phrase she comes out with. When she got her first cauldron, it was like seeing a miniature Hecate Hardbroom. So enthusiastic. So covered in green slime.” They both laughed this time. “I so wish you could have seen her growing up.”

“As do I.”

There was a world, a parallel world found only by the darkest of magic, where Hecate had not left Pippa alone by the lakeside. A world where they would have left school as friends; perhaps Hecate would have even stepped in as Pentangle’s Deputy Head. At the very least she would have witnessed Pippa blossom into motherhood; been referred to as _Aunt Hecate _as she helped Morgan brew potions and learn spells. There was also a world where Hecate had announced her feelings rather than burying them deep inside. A world where Morgan had dark hair and Pippa’s dazzling smile. But, to her constant regret, it wasn’t this one.

Tension now diffused, arguments of the past put to one side, Pippa offered Hecate a timid smile. “Well, this _certainly _wasn’t how I thought tonight would go.”

“Really?” Hecate lifted an eyebrow as she returned to her desk. “I thought this was exactly how it would go. Remember the Salem Conference?”

Pippa pursed her lips. “I’d rather not. Not my finest hour.”

“Nor mine.” Hecate sat; gesturing for Pippa to take her own. She did; both ready to continue their conversation about Morgan's welfare. “So what will you tell her? About Mildred, Maud, and Enid?”

Pippa thought for a moment. “I will tell her that Miss Hardbroom is right on many, _many _things. But not about this. I will tell her that the Pentangle witches are a remarkable judge of character. Outsiders might not see it, but they pick the greatest of friends. Friends they still think of fondly. Friends they still miss even after decades go by.”

Hecate looked at the feather of her quill; the parchment in front of her. Anything other than Pippa Pentangle. “Yes, _well, _perhaps it is time to let this bad blood go. For Morgan’s sake.”

“_For Morgan_. Perhaps you could come to tea one afternoon? We could talk. I think we have a lot to discuss.”

“That would be…_nice._” Hecate swallowed. Wanting to give Pippa no uncertainty as to her words, she then said,_ “_I would like that very much. _Pipsqueak._”

Pippa _beamed. _“Then it’s a date. _Hiccup_.” 

No more was said between them. This was not the time, nor place, for heartfelt conversations of what had gone before. They would have their moment, in private, sometime from now. Morgan seemingly agreed as she burst through the door of Hecate’s potions lab, announcing to her mother that they would be late for her Head of Year speech. Awkward glances and timid smiles put an end to their conversation as Morgan dragged her mother to the main hall. Hecate followed, lingering at the back rather than her usual place up front.

No one was prouder than Pippa watching her daughter on stage. Yet, three souls in the crowd clapped even harder. Hecate remembered those days. Despite their brilliance, despite always fighting for top of the class, they had always supported one another. Hecate rarely applauded, but she’d always clapped for Pippa. Now, watching her daughter, Hecate did so again.

_For Morgan, _she tried to tell herself. But, really, _for us._


End file.
